If You Like Pina Coladas...
by Verve
Summary: Erika gets desperate and puts in a personal ad... just when fate decide to rear it's ugly-giant-mutated-head
1. If You Like Pina Coladas

If you like Pina Colada's.  
  
(this happens to be the result of a full fill personal add posting session on your favorite local BG&R Board, so I took Erica's and gave it a little spin. Now that I read it, it's sorta turning into the BG&R version of "You've got mail." Geeze, I can't seem to come up with an orginal idea of my own. *Shrug* can't win 'em all I guess. Hope you like it, R&R please, and as always, don't own 'em so don't hurt me ^_^)  
  
Slate set down the phone and sighed; an all time low- putting and ad in the personal pages. She felt as if she were selling herself like so many cattle. She huffed down in the nearest recliner in her cozy, though most would call it small, apartment on the Quark compound and reflected for a moment. Her brow furrowed as she tugged absently at her earlobe. It was just the Neutronic Daily - and this was the twentieth consecutive Saturday night she had spent alone (a thought made worse by realizing that twenty Saturday's ago she had gone out to dinner with her mother.) She was just looking to get out of the compound for a change. Meet someone new. It wasn't that bad.  
  
Was it?  
  
  
  
Dwayne set down the phone and looked at it for a long moment. So they had found his match, a soul mate was Jim's words for it.  
  
"She's perfect man, just put in her ad a few seconds ago." His voice was almost drowned out by the noise of fingers taping on keyboards all around him in the Neutronic Daily offices.  
  
"Listen, Jim, I really appreciate all you're doing to get me a date, but you can consider the debt paid." Dwayne scratched his head and leaned up against the wall, he was doing his best not to get frustrated at his over zealous friend.  
  
"Never man, you saved my life! You remember that gray foggy day when the war was still going on and we were down in the mess together eating grub and." Dwayne cut him off by jumping in with a subject change. Jim Douglas the third was a long winded (air supplied via lack cranial substance) aspiring novelist, who got stuck with the only job he could get writing part time and still indulge his typewriter and heat bill the other half of the time. the want ads. They used to serve together during the war, and a few of that old group still kept contact.  
  
"So what have you dug up for me this time?" And he meant 'dug up' when he said it. Dwayne didn't even want to waste one moment thinking of the other bombs that Jim had dropped in his direction for the sake of his 'getting some action.'  
  
"Give me some credit man," Jim said, feigning injury. "Listen to this- Physical Description: 5'1, slim, dark skinned, long, dark, wavy hair, hazel eyes..."  
  
"With a oozing skin rash and a habit of drooling on herself?" Dwayne butted in quickly.  
  
"Hey! That's in the past man, she sounded perfectly normal on the phone, the drooling wasn't that bad," Jim's voice rose defensively across the line; "and how was I supposed to know that that was the type of ointment that she meant? People but some pretty kinky stuff in these want ads!"  
  
"And you know I'm not into that kinda thing and you still set me up with her? Along with countless others." Dwayne sighed and rubbed his temples. Sure, he had no better way to spend his leave than this, but it was getting out of hand. "Jim, I'm not going to let you be my personal dating service anymore."  
  
"Okay," Jim said, with the tone of someone who was only pretending to surrender, "but how about going out with this one last one, just for old times sake?" Jim listened to what he hoped was thoughtful silence on the other end of the line for a moment. "Com'on man, I owe it to you. One last date and I'll consider my debt repaid."  
  
"Well, since you put it that way, tell me a little more about her."  
  
"I can't give you any names, you know that, but I can tell you that she claims to be a master of Kama Sutra." Jim tried to put a little mystery into his voice, and Dwayne pretended not to be as interested in that statement as he was.  
  
"Jim, there's more to that than sex. It's an art." Dwayne sat down on the floor resignedly. At least this was getting a little exciting. "What else did she say?"  
  
"Likes: Spicy foods, puzzles, deviations from anything normal, sports cars, math" Jim paused. "Hmmm, that's good for you man, good for you."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"Puzzles, that means she's lonely and desperate. Spicy foods equals good kisser," Dwayne jumped in on his list.  
  
"Where do you get that from?!" He didn't know whether to laugh or be disgusted at Jim's extreme knowledge of the other sex.  
  
"Man, everyone knows that. It's like, the birds and the bees, Romeo and Juliet, and chicks that dig spicy food are good kissers. Simple." Dwayne sat in a very puzzled silence as Jim went over the list "Deviations from normal, that one's easy, she's kinky. She likes sports cars, high speeds. need I say more? The math is a bummer though."  
  
"What's wrong with liking math?"  
  
"Well it's fine if you were the captain of you chess team in high school, but this is real life man." Jim waited for Dwayne to respond. "Dwayne? Man?" Silence. "Dude. you were captain of the chess team weren't you!" He exploded with laughter and Dwayne was glad no one could see him turn deep crimson.  
  
"Jim, just give me her number and leave me alone." He could hear him still laughing over the phone, gasping between spurts.  
  
"Yeah, just give me a minute to recoup." 


	2. Previously on If You like Pina Coladas

Previously on "If you like Pina Coladas…"

This story will not be continued as one recent reviewer told me to "shove it up my..." and I know you can probably guess the rest. I personally feel that a comment such as this is unexceptable and since this story is not a priority of mine and I feel I don't deserve such treatment for any reason whatsoever I am choosing to discontinue this story. This is the second comment of this nature I have received in my fic reviews and it is very disheartening. Please, don't swear at me. I don't appreciate it and I'm sure no one else wants to read you pointless rudeness either. I'm sorry to anyone who wrote me those very nice reviews, and very appreciative, but that was really the straw on the camels back; as it were. 

Now…

Okay, since this is the story that I've gotten the most kind reviews on (albeit it's quite an irony since they're in respose to some VERY negative reviews…) I've decided to continue. A kind reader even went out of their way to email me, a practice I promote to the extreme! So here it is, chapter two.

Erika was never a fan of tea, but it had prescribed by the herbalist earlier that day, and she threw caution to the wind, and it felt, her sanity too. On a whim she had entered the store she passed almost daily on her walk and the towering racks of exotic jarred herbs and shining jade buddahs that grinned at her as if they knew everything she didn't, called to her everytime she passed, but she'd been to timid to cross the threshold, as it were, and enter the doors of the strange store. This time was different. 

She'd entered the ad almost two days ago and hadn't heard a thing. It was depressing. If she couldn't find someone in the flesh or in print, it would seem she'd never find anyone. So, on the wings of whimsy, and a bit of foul wind, she took the first step.

            The moment she entered a wave of rich scented air buffeted her. Foreign scents of jasmine and warm grassy smells seeped into her senses and she felt almost instantly calm. The small chime over the door tingled agreeably and she took a sweeping look of the store. Displays dripping with wooden prayer beads and shelves of books on meditation and aromtherpy as well as hundreds of other studies she'd known about but never knew there was such interest in to warrant a book stared back at her. She was staring with fascination into a pair of glaring glass eyes attached to an ornamented dragon head, when a soft but probing voice broke through the silence behind her.

            "I know what it is! I see you everyday." She whirled around to see a small, gray haired man who looked much like the Buddha's in the window grinning at her and sucking on the end of a long pipe. "You walk by everyday, I see you. I think to myself, she's in love. Am I right?"

            "Ah, no. Quite the opposite actually." She laughed obligingly, but felt a little anxious at the suddenly personal conversation. "I'm sorry. I'm just looking." The old man waved her aside, the smoke from his pipe curling around his hand as it upset the air. 

            "I know what then, you're needing love then. Aggravated." Erika pulled her light coat in at her neck in outrage. The man was all but declaring her sexually frustrated. 

            "I'm really just looking!" She insisted. The man was having none of it.

            "Here, I make you this, very special. I like you. I don't make this just for anyone." He hefted himself up and pulled out several jars, mixing them deftly. 

            "I'm honored!" Her outrage shown as clearly as she let it. 

            He handed her a small brown package and winked, quick describing the proper way to prepare it and hurrying her out the door and refusing her offers of payment as well as her refusals of the product itself.

            "It bring you good luck, good love."

            Now she eyed the concoction warily. Certainly, there was something to be said about the curative properties of alternative medicine, scientifically it'd been show in many studies. Now, wither those effects where more of a placebo like occurrence where it was more up to the believer than the medicine itself to provide those cures was still in debate. The thing was, if it worked or not, she didn't have a thing that needed to be cured. She was in perfect health. 

She took a tentative sip. In an instant she began gagging. Not only was the mixture noxious in taste and smell, the water was too hot and scaled her tongue and the back of her throat. Holding her tongue out her of her mouth and rushing to the faucet she quickly poured herself a glass of cold water and drank it even more quickly, relishing each relieving gulp. She turned and looked at offending cup angrily.

            "That stupid…" but before she could finish cursing the tea, she grabbed her throat and moaned. "My voice!"

            Wither it was something in what she'd drank or effect of the scalding her voice had been knocked a few notes lower than normal, and it was scratchy and hurt with every syllable. 

            And at that moment the phone rang. 

            "Hello," she muttered unhappily into the receiver.

            "Um, hi." A male voice sounded on the other side, instantly peaking her attention. There was silence for a bit as Erika sat and glared angrily at nothing in particular.

            "May I help you?" Her tone was more curt than she meant it to be, but she was in no mood for sudden callers.

            "Ah, yeah, it's about your ad." Her eyes went wide. "You know, in the paper."

            "I'm aware…" Erika's voice faded off. The moment had come, and she had no idea how to deal with it. Normally, she might've prepared something, some sort of mental dialogue or something, but deep down she'd been sure no one would've responded. She'd been a bit depressed that it had turned out that way earlier, but not surprised. 

            Silence reigned on the line.

            "Well, I thought we'd… um, meet." He broke the quite. "The restaurant on fifth and oak? At eight?"

            "Eight?" She muttered, dazed. The pain in throat was dull compared to the ringing in her head. "Perfect…I'll wear a white orchid?"

            White orchid?  Where was she getting this from? she thought. 

            "Sure, that'll be fine. So… you like puzzles?" He was trying to start up a conversation but she just nodded at the phone.

            "Uh huh." And in a daze she hung up, and walked over to her tea, picking up the concoction and mindlessly devouring the entire cooled cup. 

            She had a date.

            Dwayne hung up the phone and stared at it letting the shock flow from his body. That was abrupt.  

            "She turned you down?" Jo looked at him over her cup of coffee and grinned. "Too bad."

            "No, I'm meeting her tomorrow." He shrugged and dug his hands into his pockets. "I tried to get her talking but, she just hung up."

            "Probably your overwhelming charm." Mac grunted a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest and eyed Dwayne from his seat at the 'kitchen' table. "Strange bird."

            "Yeah, I'd say." Dwayne walked past the table and headed to his quarters. 

            "She sound okay at least?" Garth piped in.

            "Yeah," Dwayne thought back to the throaty voice. "Gorgeous, actually. But you can't tell them all by how they sound."

            "Don't I know it!" Mac chirped with a gritty gaffaw.

            "No. You don't. Shut up Mac" Jo rolled her eyes and Dwayne moved out of the room to settle into bed for the night as best he could.

            He wouldn't have admitted it, but her voice really had gotten to him. Like sandpaper and velvet. He was nervous, and sleeping that night would be more of a chore than a rest. 

            "Rusty, I don't know what you've gone and done to yourself this time."  Dr. Slate tsked lightly at the squirming robot. "I got dragged all the way out here for some gum?"

            "Aw, I swear I didn't mean to." Rusty had gone and gotten bubble gum stuck in his main neural relays. Never mind how he'd gotten it there, or how he'd gotten the gum in the first place; but it was a problem. The boy robot couldn't function well enough to fly back to Quark and could hardly stand as it was. The worst thing was something was malfunctioning so badly that his verbal programs were periodically sputtering, resulting in something magnificently similar to turrets. Every so often the little red innocent kid would let out a string of curses to rival the most seasoned sailor.

            "I want to know where you learned all those… things!" She pulled at a wad of pink goo and winced as the kid let out another string of vile verbage.

            "Don't look at me!" Mac protested even before Erika could shoot him accusing glance. He'd been trying his best to poke around in the kid to see what was wrong when she'd arrived, being called in after he realized he had no idea what he was looking at.

            "I really am sorry, I can't help it!" Rusty looked so close to tearing up, if it were possible, that Doctor Slate felt something tug at her emotions.

            "Oh Rusty!" She admonished while resisting the urge to give him a hug. "I'm almost done, you'll be fine in a minute." She offered, settling for a motherly pat on his shoulder.

            "Is that the kid I heard?" Duane suddenly appeared in the doorway with a shocked grin on his features. "It's terrifying." Another stream of scalding syllables set forth from the boys lips. "Oh wow, it is him!"

            "Oh gosh! Oh gosh, oh gosh. I'm so sorry!!!" Now he looked as if he really were bawling and Erika's mothering instincts set in. She quickly pulled the kid to her and glared at Dwanye.

            "Leave him alone will you?!" She was amazed at how Rusty clung to her. "Someone gave him gum, and that's what's causing this whole mess in the first place."

            "That would be me." Dwanye offered. "Didn't know the kid couldn't handle it. I thought it would be a nice gift."

            "It wasn't," she snapped, and then groaned as her throat snapped back. It was still sore from last night. Rusty heard her pain and pushed back at her to look up. 

            "Are you okay, Doc?" 

            "Yeah, just a slight problem with some tea last night. Nothing to be worried about." She waved aside the concern, still peeved, and went back to work on the last bit of bubble gum. Extracting it she held it up and looked accusingly at Dwayne. "How?"

            "Don't look at me. I'm just the administrator, not the agitator."

            "I'd say you're a little of both!" She huffed and stood, brushing herself off and patting Rusty's head closed. 

            "So the kid got a little gum in his hair. Most kids do." 

            "He's not most kids!" She fumed. "This one happens to be mine!"

            "The governments actually." Dwayne pointed out, but it only seemed to make her madder. There was something about the Doc mad that got to him. Something he couldn't quite name.

            Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He was right about Rusty, but it seemed to pain her more than she wanted to say.

            "Need a ride back doc?" Garth quipped in from his spot where he was tinkering with a slightly important looking part that might of attached to some slightly important looking machinery. 

            "What time is it?" She pulled a loose bit of hair back and tried to regain the strands of her composure that remained. 

            "Almost five." Garth checked his watch. "Got a hot date tonight."

            "Yes." She said quickly, without thinking and then pulled her lips together tightly eyes wide. She suddenly felt like swearing herself. "I mean, maybe."

            "What's a hot date?" Rusty tugged at the hem of her sterile lab coat. "It's the twenty third, and it's cold out." He observed pointedly.

            "I'll explain later Rusty." Slate said quickly as the heat in her collar became uncomfortable.

            "Hey, the doc's got herself a gentle man friend!" Mac clapped his hands and rubbed them together excitedly. "Didn't know that you had time to experiment outside of the lab, doc."

            "Who is this mystery man? Some Noble laureate? I bet his big, thick black-rimmed plastic glasses are a real turn on." Dwayne couldn't resist teasing. Slate looked at him and wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face. For some reason she defended the man she'd never met against the lieutenant. 

            "On the contrary, he's very handsome." She lied. "Perhaps not terribly intelligent, but for a doctor of English, one can't expect too much."       

            "English, huh?" Dwayne leaned on the wall and continued to smirk. He didn't know why, but seeing the doc flustered was worth being a complete ass. "I bet he's a real kick at parties, what with his dissertations on postmodern French dialogues."

            "South American poetic trends, but we don't really discuss that too often." She played it cool, and lied like a champ. There was no stopping the manufactured man that rolled off the production line now. "He's actually a fascinating conversationalist."

            "I bet" Mac took his turn at looking nonplussed. 

            "He is!" She defended the figment of her imagination. "He's a wonderful man, really! A perfect gentleman." 

            Dwanye snorted.

            "I bet he loves children and kittens too?"

            "Well, now that you mention it."

            "Ha!" He threw his head back and walked out the door, leaving a baffled Erika staring after him.

            "Well, I'm happy for you." Garth was at her side, patting her shoulder confidently. "Let's get you back to shore side, so we can get you ready." 

            "Thank you," she hardly acknowledged him as she got into her seat, still looking at the door where Dwayne had just departed from. 

            "Hey Mac," Rusty looked at the codger questioningly. "What's a date?"

            "A dried prune." He said with a grin.

"really?" Rusty 

"No. It's kissy stuff."

"ewwwww…"


End file.
